Revelations of a Deadly Kind
by Calie1
Summary: It was only when faced with dead did he see clearly. One shot.


"Are you okay?"

"What?" Oliver asked in confusion, his mind not even registering what Emil was asking.

"Are you okay?" Emil nodded at Oliver as he inserted the IV into Chloe's arm.

Finally he looked down, noticing the blood covering his hands, his arms, the green leather of his vest. It was everywhere. He tried to form a rational thought as he stared down, but his mind had gone blank. When he looked back up to Emil he found Clark standing next to the doctor, no longer looking at his best friend, but Oliver. He tried to find something to say, anything, but he couldn't get past the feeling he might lose whatever was in his stomach.

"Is it your blood Oliver?"

Quickly he shook his head and turned away, slamming his hand against the doors and heading straight to the bathroom. It wasn't until he flipped on the light and stopped in front of the rectangular mirror above the sink did he see the full extent of the blood that covered him. It smeared his right cheekbone, covering his neck in messy splotches and streaks. He vaguely remembered Chloe grabbing his neck as he lifted her. Upon further examination he found a bloody handprint on his opposite shoulder, blood covering his arms, staining his vest. He looked down and surveyed his hands, mouth falling open slightly at the sight of her blood. Quickly he ripped his gloves off, tossing them to the floor and yanked the zipper down on his vest, and tossed it. Soon the water was on, scalding hot, and he was scrubbing his face, his neck, arms, chest, anywhere there was blood. And it wasn't just any blood, it wasn't his, a mugger, alien from another planet, it was Chloe's.

"She's going to be fine."

Oliver's head shot up and he stared into the reflection of the mirror to find Clark standing behind him in the doorway to the bathroom.

"Emil said he should have the bullet out soon. And her arm, it was only a graze." He waited for a response, but Oliver gave none. Instead reaching for a towel and scrubbing his arms. "You know you saved her life."

"It doesn't feel like it." He dropped the towel on the floor and clenched the sides of the sink, bracing his body against it as he let his head drop, chin almost meeting his chest. Pink streaks ran down the porcelain sink, splatters of water and blood on the counter. Only one thought came running through his head. It was Chloe's blood. Each time he felt his stomach turn, nausea threatening.

"We couldn't have known. And if it wasn't for you she would have bled out. She would have been dead." Oliver said nothing in response, but he could see the muscles in his back tense, his arms flexing as he gripped the sink. "Look, I know I've been concerned about how much the two of you interact, and that is only made worse by the fact that yours and Chloe's opinion often differs from my own, but I know she wouldn't blame you."

Oliver looked up, glancing in the mirror and then turning his neck so that he was facing Clark. "How can you be okay with this?"

"I'm not. But if you're going to blame yourself then I'm just as much to blame. You can tell yourself you brought her into this, but I was bringing her into this and risking her life long before you were." Clark waited for Oliver to snap back at him, but Clark received no such attack. Instead Oliver turned his head around again, his shoulders dropping again and sagging. "So it only makes me wonder what's the difference?" Clark waited for some response, but still Oliver remained silent. It had taken a while before Clark grew to be suspicious of the easy manner in which Chloe and Oliver treated one another. He supposed he could have shrugged it off to them just getting closer, relating to one another. But then he caught sight of the smirks, and the playful flirting. Whether something was going on between them he had no clue, but to see Oliver so broken up over what happened, more so than even Clark, he had to wonder. "I'm going to make a quick run, get you something to change into."

The door closed eventually and Oliver sighed, practically stumbling back against the wall. Slowly he slid down and propped his elbows on his knees, burying his face into his hands.

He was slightly grateful for Clark's gesture. He knew Clark didn't want to leave Chloe, but Oliver wanted out of the blood stained clothes, wanted to see them burned. There was also no way he could get out of Emil's covered in Chloe's blood or even sans his vest. It wasn't like he planned on leaving yet anyway.

His mind eventually drifted back to Clark's words, recognizing the suspicion in them. On a couple of occasions Chloe had relayed to him Clark's questions about their relationship. She had shrugged them off and so had Oliver. Because it hadn't really mattered. They were friends, nothing more. Just friends there for one another. It worked. It was simple. It was uncomplicated. And then she got shot. He saw her dying in his minds eyes, saw the blood covering him, her blood. It made him sick – the sight of her blood, the thought of her dying. It had rattled him so deeply that he had no choice but to face the obvious. He loved her, and that only made it worse. It only twisted the knife in his gut more.

He hadn't realized that it had all gone hand in hand. She understood him, she didn't pressure him, she took care of him... She knew when he needed her and when he needed space. He thought it was those reasons that would make it easy for them to have a physical relationship separate from their friendship. The problem was it was for those reasons that he came to love her. And because he loved her that's why it had worked, why it was so uncomplicated, why being with her seemed so easy. It shouldn't have been so easy for them when they started their relationship, or at least a loose definition of the word. There were bad guys, Clark, Lois, that should have complicated it, but it didn't. Because loving her made the rest of it seem so unimportant.

This time when she woke she turned her head and found him there, slouched in a chair next to her. Hair a more unrefined mess than it usually was, short stubble covering his cheek and chin, and wearing a t-shirt and track pants. She couldn't help but smile at his unkept appearance. "Ollie."

He heard her small whisper and whipped his head up to find her green eyes watching him, corner of her mouth turned up into a small smile. "Hey." Leaning forward he propped his arms on her bed and rested a hand gently over her arm. "Do you need Emil?" She shook her head. "Do you need anything."

"Water," she whispered hoarsely. He nodded and grabbed a bottle near him and unscrewed the cap. As she lifted her head to accept the water his hand slid into her hair, holding her head up. When she nodded he lowered her head back to the pillow.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up earlier. Emil chose that moment to chase me out." He reached out and touched her face, more out of need to comfort himself than her. "Look, Chloe, I'm-" Her fingers pressed against her lips.

"I'm only saying it once," Chloe whispered. "I don't care. Don't apologize. It's a miracle I haven't been shot before now anyway. I'm pretty sure I had it coming." He glared at her joke. "Sorry."

He grabbed her hand and pulled it down. "Then listen to me. Even if I had nothing to apologize for I'd still be sitting here." He sighed and lowered his head to rest on his arm. He didn't want to look at her, but he had to. Slowly he turned his head on his arm and looked up the bed to the green eyes that were looking down at him. "Seeing you like this, the blood..." he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut in an effort to block out her face. To forget how she looked with blood covering her body, eyes rolling to the back of her head, face pale white. "It scared the hell out of me." He felt her fingers in his hair, but he still didn't open his eyes. She combed through his hair gently, soothing him when it should have him soothing her. She'd had a bullet in her gut, not him. "Not only do I blame myself as I'm sure you knew I would, but suddenly I was seeing the rest of my life without you and that scared the shit out of me Chloe. Even when Emil and Clark reassured me that you would be fine it didn't matter. I was still scared, because suddenly I realized where all the fear was coming from. This thing we have isn't as simple as I thought and I had no choice but to realize I care more about you than anyone." Her hand stilled in his hands and he opened his eyes without realizing it, heart stopping in his chest.

Considering he had seemed to be avoiding looking at her just seconds ago, he was staring at her dead on now. His brown eyes almost demanding something of her. "What do you want?"

"I don't want to lose you," he admitted.

"I'm fine."

"No, I mean," he swallowed, "I don't want anything to happen to you, but that isn't what I meant. I mean I don't want you to leave, I don't want to lose you to someone else."

"Only if you mean it," she responded thickly. And it wasn't because of pain, medication, or the need to sleep. It was because of his heartfelt admission. It was because she'd been aching with need to hear him say those words for the longest time. Finally he was there without any chance of leaving.

He raised his head and stood up as he moved closer until his face was hovering over her own. "It took you getting shot for me to realize it." He brushed away tangled strands of blond hair and cradled her face. "But I love you Chloe, I know that now." He lowered his head and kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and then her lips. When he pulled back she was smiling sleepily up at him, eyes already falling closed.

"I love you too."

He gently sat down next to her on the mattress. Never removing his hand from her face, continuing to stroke her cheek with his thumb until she fell back to sleep.


End file.
